


The Mad King Ryan's Mad Reign

by orphan_account



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Action, Angst, Friendship, Mad King Ryan, Psychoteeth, king AU, minecraft au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1435465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan Haywood was responsible for bringing all of them together, for teaching them to fight, and for giving them a purpose for their lives.  And for that, Michael and Gavin especially would do anything for him, including working hard to make sure his plans of becoming a powerful king go right.  But then Gavin gets jarred from his blind grab for approval from Ryan, and Michael is forced to choose between his only friend and his most precious person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Finally, it’s finished,” Ryan said to himself as the sun finally cleared over what was now his home and fortress.

One of his loyal servants, whom Ryan had been with since the two of them were children, stood next to him overlooking the castle. It was made entirely of obsidian, with tall spiraling towers that cast long shadows over the grand field between the castle and cobblestone wall. “It took the six of us years, but yes, it’s ready now,” Geoff told him.

Ryan’s lips stretched into a terrible twisted grin. “And so we can finally begin.” He spoke in such a menacing voice that Geoff couldn’t suppress a shiver, despite knowing Ryan for as long as he did.

To regain his composure, Geoff fixed the helmet he was holding over his head, his face now hidden behind the reflective face shield on it. He rested his hand lightly on his enchanted sword, loving both magic and the pleasurable sensation of sinking a sword deep into a person’s chest, or of splitting skin and arteries. Soon now. Unseen now because of his headgear, the red of bloodlust and controlled rage tinted his eyes.

“X-Ray!” Ryan barked out, spinning around sharply. He smoothed out his kilt as the abrupt turn disturbed his clothing.

Up in a turret on the wall, a man dressed in a tuxedo turned and leaned over the edge to look down at them. “What can I do, my lord?” he called down.

“Have all the zombies died out yet?”

Ray cast a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure he had cleared the forest ahead. Of course, any zombies that hadn’t died to the harsh sunlight, he had already shot down. It was something he was good at. “Yes, my lord!”

Ryan touched the crown upon his head, though it wasn’t a symbol of any significant rule. Not yet at least. “Excellent. Come down here now and bring Vav with you,” he said. X-ray and Vav, his two ranged fighters and a great team for protecting the castle during construction.

As Ray shouted out to Gavin on the opposite turret and the two scrambled down, Ryan turned back in the direction of the castle. “Michael! Jack!” he called out.

Michael appeared quickly, like he had been waiting for Ryan’s call nearby. Jack took some time to make his appearance—slow but always reliable. By the time Ray and Gavin had climbed down and joined the group, Jack finally reached them.

He looked around the men gathered around him, surveying them carefully. Each had some kind of red gleam in their eyes, the bloodlust that Ryan had trained them to have—except Jack had it on his own before Ryan even recruited him. Only Michael’s eyes remained normal, which pleased Ryan. No need for him to Turn just yet.

No less would he expect from the most precious servants of the (soon-to-be) Mad King Ryan.

His blue eyes softened as he looked at each of them. “Today is the day we have been waiting for. The beginning of our takeover and rule!”

Of the group, Michael, Gavin, and Ray looked the most excited, even more excited than Ryan himself. The lads were eager to prove themselves to Ryan. Of course they would be. Ryan had taken each of them under his wing as orphans, raised them, taught them to kill and self-control, especially in Michael’s case. Even though Geoff and Ryan were just teenagers themselves, they had efficiently raised the three lads. With Ryan as a special father figure to them, he knew that the three had the potential to be his best, most loyal servants.

“Make sure to spare at least a few villagers. We need someone to pay the tribute when all is said and done. And what is a king without a few subjects?” he reminded them all with a low chuckle.

Gavin looked excitedly at Michael, grinning. “Team Nice Dynamite?” he suggested, offering his fist.

Michael returned the grin. “Team Nice Dynamite,” he agreed, and the two fist-bumped.

Ryan’s smile faltered. Yes, it was good that the two were agreeing to work together instead of fighting against each other. But it was never good for his servants to get too close to each other. Their loyalty and love must always belong to himself first and foremost. He decided it would be a good idea to reassert his place in their hearts.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on one cheek of each Michael and Gavin. The two of them instantly met his eyes at the touch, and he gazed at them with soft, kind eyes. He was not a cruel tyrant, not to his beloved servants. Their faces seemed to melt into expressions of awe and love toward the one who had raised them both. They clearly cared deeply for their lord. “Keep safe and fight hard for me, alright Michael? Gavin?”

The two of them nodded vigorously—he had their undivided attention. “We will, lord Ryan!” they said in unison.

“I’ll fight hard too, lord Ryan!” Ray piped up, as if jealous of the attention he was giving to Michael and Gavin.

Ryan smiled gently and ruffled Ray’s hair. “Of course. I know my special bowman will do a spectacular job.” Ray beamed with pride.

Jack looked unimpressed by the interaction. “Can we go? I’m ready to make some heads roll,” he said, drawing his sword—not enchanted as Geoff’s was.

The soft look on Ryan’s face disappeared into a cold gaze as he turned to Jack. He knew there was no point in trying to make Jack as stricken with him as the lads were. Jack had been with them for only a few months before they began construction of the obsidian castle, recruited from the biker gang which he had been second-in-command of. Yet Ryan had no question of Jack’s loyalty—Jack had almost zero ambition, content to play the game as Ryan set the board for his servants. So it was best to get the game started.

“Yes. It’s time to go.”

———————

The village was close to the fortress, almost in its shadow. Of course the villagers noticed the beginning of the construction, and that it was something sinister. No one built out of obsidian—it was a dangerous material to gather. There was the sense of something ominous surrounding the construction of the castle. Soon after they noticed the castle being built, people began to disappear, only for their mangled body to appear days later slumped against the village wall. Anyone who went into the forest was never seen again, and the attacker remained a mystery.

A year after the disappearances began, witnesses were able to escape into the village, or were allowed to escape.

Some recounted a young man dressed like a bear that stormed their group, slashing and tearing people apart with superhuman strength. Allegedly his eyes were cruel and blood-red with such a fury that they froze the blood in one’s heart, his teeth much too sharp and just as lethal as the rest of him, and his fingers were actually sharp claws that dug deep into the skin.

Others described a young man clothed in the skin of a creeper—an oddity in and of itself. It was nearly impossible to kill one without it blowing up as you got too close to it. Even more awe-inspiring, the man carried lava in buckets, an impossibility as lava melted the iron that buckets were made out of. His eyes were also crimson, and he dumped the lava in the midst of the group and tossed TNT in to be ignited by the flames of the lava. Anyone to escape this man inevitably lost a limb of some sort, and many died of blood loss as a result.

These two attackers made the villagers fear the forest surrounding their houses. As a result, few dared to venture out into the trees, unaware of the sinister force that had intended to inspire that exact fear in preparation for something much worse.

At present it was midday, the villagers going about in relative peace. For years the fortress had been present, slowly but steadily climbing upward. Now it was just a fact of life, and few even acknowledged the growing obsidian castle anymore.

The peace was interrupted by the twang of a bow, something rarely heard in the daytime when skeletons and zombies perished in the open sunlight. An arrow buried itself in a village guard’s head, and he died instantly. Several more arrows quickly silenced his companions before they could raise an alarm.

“Guards are taken care of, sir!” Ray called down from his perch in a tree, where he could snipe hidden among the trees.

Ryan gave him a twisted grin. “Excellent work, X-Ray,” he said, knowing Ray’s fondness for the nickname.

No longer having to fear the guard’s upon the wooden wall protecting the village, he strode out from the cover of the forest. Ray kept his bow ready just in case someone tried to attack Ryan. The others were ready with their weapons as well, except for Michael, whose only weapon was his own alternate persona, Mogar. For now it was unnecessary for him to become Mogar, so he carefully checked his rage, waiting for his change to let loose.

When he reached the wall, he climbed up it to stand on top, in full view of everyone. He tapped his scepter on the ground. Green sparks of light burst from where he tapped it to the ground, but no one but he could see that.

“Hear me, villagers!” His voice boomed, amplified by the enchantment he had been working on especially for this moment. “I am Lord Ryan, and from today onward I shall be king of this land. You will pay tribute to me, or suffer the consequences!”

There was a hushed silence, mostly of confusion. No one knew who this man was, or what he could do to them. Hence, they (foolishly) did not feel any fear of him. The villagers murmured among themselves quietly, most likely wondering whether to ignore or do something about the stranger. Suddenly, a young man stepped up, drew his sword, and charged at the wall. An arrow whizzed past Ryan and struck the young man with fatal accuracy. After a short shocked silence that followed the young man’s death, more villagers drew their swords. It was clear that they intended to take down the intruder.

Ryan sighed in mock regret, turning his back on them. “What a pity. I had hoped to keep most of you alive,” he said, his voice still magically amplified. He spread his arms toward the forest, where his servants were still hidden. “Well, if that’s the case, then let the games begin!”

There was a terrible roar as Michael finally let his rage fly, and the two attackers described by the village survivors crashed out of the underbrush. Many villagers froze, recognizing them from the many stories told about their terrorism. The terrible bear-man took the lead, quickly leaving behind the man dressed in creeper skin.

“Michael! Wait up, Michael!” Gavin shouted to his partner as he was left behind.

Ryan smiled, teeth showing. His wild servant wasn’t Michaelanymore. He was Mogar, his superhuman warrior whose rage triggered a transformation that gave him certain useful bear-like qualities. Gavin was wasting his breath calling for Michael to slow down.

Michael didn’t slow down as he approached the thick wooden doors to the village. He barreled right through them, breaking a hole open for the others, Gavin slipping through soon after. Jack and Geoff reached the village in a sword-wielding pair, swords drawn and red eyes flashing as they cut down anyone foolish enough to attack them. Ray hung back, as was part of the plan, picking off whoever tried to escape. After all, it would be no good for them to bring back some reinforcements before the six were prepared for it.

Gavin finally caught up to Michael as the latter paused in his charge to attack the villagers who thought they still had a chance to beat off the strangers. Following up behind his partner, Gavin dumped lava next to the wooden houses to set them on fire.

A boy—a teenager probably, just barely reaching puberty—swung a sword at Michael. Normally such terrible swordsmanship would never tough the great bear-warrior, Mogar. But in the midst of a battle, with so many assailants about him at once, the boy landed a lucky hit, cutting shallowly into Michael’s side.

With a roar, Michael spun at the boy, claws poised to slash down on him. For a moment, the boy was paralyzed with fear. Then, as if everything were moving in slow motion, the boy managed to move out of range, turned tail, and ran. When Michael attempted to follow, the other villagers closed in around him, allowing the boy to escape.

“Michael!” Gavin cried out, seeing the sword cut into his friend.

He felt his blood boiling as he watched the boy escape into a burning house, possibly unaware that it was even on fire. No way, Gavin would not let him off so easily. He would hunt the boy down and destroy him. He ran after the boy heedlessly running right into the building despite the scorching flames and encroaching lava that he had dumped. He was so furious that anyone should hurt his partner that he didn’t even hear Michael shout after him, “Gavin! What are you doing? Don’t go in there!”

For a moment, Michael’s concentration was lost, and he just barely dodged a swinging pickaxe. Dammit, what was Gavin doing, running into a burning building like that? Idiot! He attempted again to follow, but the crowd he was fighting was just too thick to break through.

Dammit! “Gavin, stop!” He couldn’t even feel the cut in his side; he only worried that Gavin was going to get himself killed over a scrawny little kid.

Michael fought with a new desperate fury.

Inside the building, Gavin was on the hunt for the boy who had hurt Michael. Everything around him was on fire, but he ignored the heat and danger in search of his quarry. He listened intently, and could hear the faint sound of someone running.

He hurried after the sound until he come to a dead-end room, the boy facing the way, looking around as if he could find some miraculous trapdoor that would get him out of the building and to safety.

Gavin felt the corners of his lips turn up into a deadly smile. “I got you now,” he said in a sing-song voice, drawing the short-sword that he used for special occasions such as this.

The boy spun around, backed up against the wall. Gavin’s smile froze and disappeared. He felt his heart stop. His sword slipped out of his hand and fell to the floor with a clatter.

“Michael?” The boy looked just like Gavin’s favorite partner did as a young teenager, with short curly hair and a freckled face.

The boy held his sword awkwardly with both of his hands, holding it up between him and Gavin as a last-resort barrier. “St—stay back!” he tried to warn in a trembling voice, but Gavin didn’t even hear him. He could only stare at the boy, dumbstruck, partially lost in some memory and partially hesitant to strike who could very well have been his friend long ago.

“Michael…”

Finally. Finally everyone lay dead around him. No one left to stand between Michael and rescuing Gavin from his own idiotic move. He swore that when he saved Gavin from killing himself, then he would kill Gavin for worrying him. He panted heavily, having greatly exerted himself in massacring the entire crowd of villagers attempting to defend their home. Yet he had no time to rest now. He had to help Gavin before it was too late.

He took off into the building. “Gavin! Where are you?” he called. No response. Dammit, there was no way Gavin was going to get himself killed on his watch! He searched room to room, looking wildly for a hint of creeper skin. He kept calling out Gavin’s name, but never heard any kind of response. Where was he?

Finally, in a small room he found Gavin, standing stock still, his back to Michael. The frightened teen whom had cut Michael was standing across from him, sword raised shakily, his back to the wall. No threat in that condition.

Michael felt such a flood of relief at seeing his partner alive and alright that he didn’t even notice the way Gavin’s shoulders were still, or that his short-sword had fallen to the ground. He figured that if the boy was still alive, then he was no more threat, sword or not, and the two of them could easily take care of him.

He stepped forward, the red beginning to fade from his eyes and a gently smile forming on his lips. “Gav—.”

The boy cut him off with an abrupt cry and lunged forward in a last move of desperation. His sword buried itself deep into Gavin’s stomach.

Michael froze in horror, the ghost of his smile still on his lips, quickly fading. He blanched as Gavin dropped silently to his knees and begin to fall over, almost in slow motion. No. No no no no no!

His vision bloomed red and a deafening roar filled his ears. He let out a scream that he couldn’t even hear, and the boy flinched back, fully petrified. Rage coursed through his veins and he felt that he might burst with anger.

“You fucker! I’ll fucking kill you!” he screamed, charging.

Gavin had felt the bite in his stomach, but it seemed like some far-off sensation. He was numb all over. Michael… It was like a teenaged Michael had stabbed him. And that hurt more clearly than the wound itself, even though in the back of his mind he knew that the boy wasn’t actually Michael.

He dropped to his knees, his vision going blurry, but he never took his eyes off the boy, who had left the sword stuck in Gavin’s body. The boy’s eyes were wide in horror and he was pressed back against the wall. Michael…

The last thing Gavin saw was the image of Michael being torn apart before his eyes, and the world went black.


	2. Chapter 2

“Gavin, this is Michael. Michael, this is Gavin.”

Michael looked at the newcomer with a great deal of mistrust. He looked from the scrawny boy with brown-blond hair to Ryan. “Why is he here?” he demanded.

Ryan ruffled Michael’s hair. “Don’t be jealous, he’s here to help us out. You get to be in charge of him for me, so don’t let me down.”

At that, Michael puffed his chest out. “Of course not! I can handle anything and anyone!” he said proudly. But he still didn’t trust this new boy.

Gavin ran up to Michael, eyes wide with wonder. “Wow, oh look! Your hair is so curly!” he exclaimed with a toothy grin.

Then, unbelievably, Gavin grabbed hold of Michael’s hair running his fingers through it with the same child-like wonder that was in his eyes.

The touch set Michael off. He tackled Gavin to the ground, pinning the boy underneath him. “Don’t touch me!” he snarled.

Gavin saw Michael’s eyes quickly turning red, and felt something sharp poking his arms. The quick change terrified him. “I’m sorry Michael! I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me!” he cried.

Gently Ryan lifted Michael off of Gavin, wrapping his arm consolingly around the angry boy’s shoulders. “Now, now Michael, no need to let Mogar out now,” he whispered gently, kissing the top of Michael’s curly-haired head.

Michael reigned in his rage with great difficulty. “He’s an idiot,” he huffed, his eyes back to normal. He was embarrassed that he lost control like that—in front of Ryan, too.

“But you still need to take special care of him and make sure he adjusts well to life here with us,” Ryan reminded him.

Michael frowned slightly, eyeing Gavin suspiciously, who was finally gingerly getting to his feet, greatly shaken by Michael’s sudden violence. “Where is he going to sleep?” he asked, hoping that it wouldn’t be withhim.

Ryan laughed, understanding the younger boy’s question perfectly. It was one of the things Michael loved about their group’s leader—he always understood and acted in kindness to him. “Don’t worry Michael, he’ll be rooming with Geoff of course.”

“What?!” Geoff exclaimed, just rounding the corner. “Why do I have to share with the new kid?”

He sighed lightly, and patiently explained to Geoff. “Well, Michael needs his own room, you know that. Unless… you’d like to room with him?”

Geoff waved his hands and shook his head. “No, no, that’s fine. I’ll take the new kid.”

________

Boom!

Gavin scrambled over to the edge of the crater he’d made with a special bomb he invented. He grinned wildly. His invention was a success! Such a wonderfully deep hole, such wondrous destruction.

“Check it out, Michael! Isn’t it awesome?” he exclaimed, spinning back to where his companion was waiting.

The curly-haired boy wasn’t even looking at him, examining his nails instead. He glanced up and shrugged, unimpressed. “It’s alright. Nothing to get so excited about. Can’t believe I had to escort you all the way out here just for a stupid little explosion,” he said, returning his attention to his nails.

In order to test out Gavin’s explosives, Ryan asked Michael to take him out away from the “abandoned” house that served as the orphan group’s home, and to go to an empty field far from town. That way, not too many people would be able to hear the explosives, and Gavin would have plenty of room for blowing things up. Michael was perfect as a bodyguard for the other boy due to his “condition”.

Gavin huffed, crossing his arms. “You’re just too lame to see how awesome my bomb is,” he said.

Michael looked up at him sharply, clenching his fists at his sides. “Excuse me?” he growled, the faintest hint of red. Although Gavin wasn’t able to see the telltale sign of Michael Turning, he could hear it clearly in his tone.

Whoops, that one was a bit too far. Gavin did some stupid things, but nothing suicidal. And bringing Mogar out when they were so far from home (and Ryan’s ability to calm Michael) was definitely suicidal. He quickly backtracked. “Well, then tell me what it’d take to impress you,” he said.

There was a few moments of silence as Michael thought about a way that Gavin could impress him. He was quiet for so long that Gavin began to think that Michael had forgotten all about what he was thinking about. Just when Gavin was about to prompt him for an answer, Michael broke into a mischievous grin. “Carry buckets of lava and set your bombs off using that,” he challenged.

“Fine! I’ll do just that, and you’ll be so impressed with me that you’ll have to admit how awesome my bombs are!” Gavin accepted immediately.

Michael frowned at him. “Are you an idiot? No, bad question, ofcourse you’re an idiot. Carrying buckets of lava around is impossible. It’ll melt or burn whatever bucket you use.”

“Shows how much you know. I’ll do it and you’ll have to be impressed with me finally!” he declared. Michael only rolled his eyes in return and refused to respond.

Sure, Gavin had no idea how he would do it. And sure, it was mostly likely impossible—like, ninety-nine percent impossible. But so was turning into some strange man-bear killing machine, but Michael could still dothat. Ryan was planning to become king of as much land as he could obtain, and Geoff studied magical enchantments that shouldn’t exist. The four of them were a family of impossible!

When they returned to the house, Gavin ran straight to the room that he shared with Geoff. During the long walk back, he had the perfect plan for carrying lava in bucets.

“Geoff, Geoff!” he gasped as soon as he burst through the door.

Most people would be startled at the distressed tone in Gavin’s breathless voice, worried even. However, Geoff had been roommates with Gavin for a couple months now, and when you’re rooming with an eccentric self-taught pyrotechnic, nothing surprised or worried you anymore. Not when it was about Gavin.

Geoff looked up from the sword he was enchanting, a bored expression on his face. “What is it, Gavin? I’m a little busy right now,” he asked.

Gavin hopped up onto the bed next to Geoff. The sword bounced off his lap and dropped to the ground. Geoff shot him a glare and bent to pick it back up. Ignoring the glare, Gavin gave his roommate the best ‘Please indulge my antics, no matter how silly they are’ look that he could muster.

“I want to be able to carry lava in buckets.”

“Impossible,” Geoff deadpanned, looking back down at his sword, examining it for any damages from the fall. “I should probably give it an unbreakable enchantment too,” he muttered to himself thoughtfully.

Gavin sighed dramatically. “I know it is technically impossible, but Michael’s ability is technically impossible too, and he can still become Mogar, right?”

Geoff set his sword on the rickety nightstand, sensing that dealing with Gavin was going to take up a significant amount of his time and energy. “Ok, let’s define the word ‘impossible’, Gavin. If something is impossible, it means that there is no way it could ever happen, and so itdoesn’t ever happen. Ever. If it did happen, then it’s obviously possible. Since Michael can and does, in fact, Turn into Mogar, that means such a thing is possible, and not impossible,” he explained as patiently as he could.

Gavin stared at the older boy blankly. “I don’t get it,” he said finally after a long silence.

Geoff groaned. “Oh just forget it.” He went to pick up his sword again.

“Wait, wait! I got it!” Gavin exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

The older boy looked at him with an eyebrow raised, but didn’t say anything. He decided to leave his sword where it was for the time being.

“What if…” Gavin paused for dramatic effect. “…you enchanted buckets for holding lava?”

“No way.”

Gavin pouted at Geoff’s quick refusal. “Oh come on! If you did that, then it wouldn’t be impossible anymore.”

Now Geoff really did pick his sword back up, completely done with Gavin by now. “Look, figuring out enchantments takes time and energy. And I’m not going to waste my time enchanting buckets for you.”

“Oh please, Geoff! I’ll do anything!” Gavin pleaded.

“Anything huh?” For a minute Geoff sat in silence, considering Gavin. He really didn’t need anything. At least, not anything that a young boy was able to provide. Not that it mattered. He intended his request to be impossible anyway. He gave it some thought. Then he grinned, much like Michael did in making his challenge. “Alright then, Gavin. You want me to do the impossible for you? Then you do the impossible for me. Skin a whole creeper and bring it to me. Then we’ll talk.”

“Of course!” Gavin didn’t hesitate to agree.

“Good.” Geoff handed him the sword he had been working on. He would get another one. “Here’s a short sword. Your bombs won’t help you much against creepers. Have fun.”

Gavin snatched up the sword and took off running. “Michael! Michael!” he shouted excitedly as he sped down the hall.

He smashed right into Michael, who was just starting to turn around at Gavin’s calls. The two of them went sprawling on the ground. Michael sat up, rubbing his head, but before he could yell at Gavin for being an idiot, Gavin grabbed his shoulders.

“We have to go back to the field and into that forest behind it right now!” he exclaimed, shaking Michael vigorously.

Michael was too surprised to get angry, or to say anything but a confused, “What? Why?”

Gavin jumped up to his feet and retrieved the sword he dropped. “Because it’s part of my plan to impress you and I need to get a creeper’s skin fr it!” he explained, as if it was supposed to make a lick of sense.

“What? But… That isn’t even possible to do, especially not possible for you. What do you need a creeper’s skin for? And why are you running with a sword? You’ll cut someone’s head off, idiot!”

His questions were waved off. Instead, Gavin wrapped his arms around one of Michael’s and forcibly pulled him to his feet with surprising strength. “Just don’t worry about any of that, let’s go!”

“What’s going on?”

The two boys looked up to see Ryan with a strange, half-amused, half-pained look on his face.

Gavin hurriedly released Michael, who proceeded to punch him in the shoulder. “Oh, I just wanted to go out and hunt for creepers. You know.” He winced as he rubbed where Michael hit him.

It looked like Ryan was deep in thought, although neither could imagine that he was worried about the two getting too close to each other, and not to him, and if it was too much of a risk to allow them to go out and spend so much time exclusively with each other. Especially with the way Gavin was quite literally manhandling Michael, and Michael hadn’t Turned and bit the boy’s face off.

Then Ryan smiled. “Of course. But no need to make Michael go with you. I’ll take you,” he said finally.

Strangely, although Michael hated the kid, he felt a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be tagging along with Gavin. It would be hilarious to watch the idiot get himself blown up trying to get close enough to creepers to stick his sword in them. “But…” he began to protest.

Ryan placed a hand on top of Michael’s head, smiling down at the younger boy. “You rest and do whatever you’d like here at home, Michael,” he said, his voice still kind but with a tone that said he was not to be argued with.

Michael gave him a faint smile, forcing away the regretful feelings. “Yeah. Thanks.”

With that, Ryan hooked his arm with Gavin’s. “Let’s go and get some creepers then,” he said fondly.

Gavin felt himself blush. While he had only been with the boys for a few months, he really admired Ryan—the way he led them, the way he raised Michael and Gavin with such patience despite being pretty much a kid himself, letting Gavin make his own bombs and blow things up.

They made their way out to the forest across from the empty field. Ryan saw the crater that Gavin had made not too long before. “Your bomb did that?” he asked, sounding impressed.

Gavin felt himself swell with pride. “Yes, the bomb I made did that,” he replied.

Ryan grinned and nodded. “Nice. Very nice.”

They walked in silence until the very edge of the forest. “Want a tip on how to kill a creeper?” Ryan asked him.

He looked up at Ryan, eyes as wide as saucers. “You’ve killed a creeper before?” he asked in amazement.

Ryan nodded. “The trick is to get close and make a quick jab at it, then get as far back as you can. It’ll take work but it’s possible. I’ve done it a few times,” he explained.

“It’s possible! You’ve done it before! That means it isn’t impossible!” Gavin gasped out, making Ryan give him a puzzled expression.

“Well, yes, I suppose it does mean that.”

Hours later back at the house, as the moon was beginning to rise, Michael was sitting on his bed gazing out of the dusty old cracked window overlooking the street. He wondered if Gavin got himself killed. No, that wasn’t possible with Ryan with him. Nothing could beat Ryan. Although it had been quite a while since the two left.

He wished that his window overlooked the side of the house that Gavin and Ryan would return on. As much as he hated to admit it… He was worried.

About Ryan of course! He hoped Gavin got himself blown up in this idiotic errand of his! There was no way he’d be able to kill a creeper without it blowing up. Or fill a bucket with lava. It was impossible, so why did he even try?

His bedroom door creaked open, and Michael jumped to his feet and spun around.

“Hey. I’m back.” Gavin smiled at him.

“Wow, you look…” Michael swept his eyes over Gavin. “You look like crap.”

Gavin was covered head to toe in cuts and bruises—his lip was split and one of his eyes was swollen shut. He walked into the room with a limp.

“Heh, yeah I sort of do, don’t I?” he said, laughing a bit, but then wincing in pain.

Michael frowned. “Idiot, that’s what happens when you go fighting creepers and trying to do the impossible,” he said.

With a huge grin, Gavin shook his head. “It’s not impossible though.” He held up a bucket.

Michael walked over in disbelief and peered inside. It couldn’t be. But it was. The bucket was filled to the brim with lava.

“I’m also getting Geoff to make me an outfit out of the skin from the creeper I killed,” Gavin added.

“But… I don’t… How?” Michael could barely form a coherent question, and stared at Gavin in utter disbelief. They weren’t eventeenagers yet, and killing a creeper was next to impossible without it blowing up. But still, Gavin had done it.

Gavin’s grin was so wide that it looked like it would split his face in half. “By being stubborn and an idiot,” he said jokingly.

“You got that right,” Michael agreed, and he laughed. He was beginning to feel a newfound respect for the other boy.

“So… You’re impressed, right?” Gavin asked, looking at him with hopeful eyes.

Michael grinned. “Yeah. Definitely.”

________

“For the last time Michael: he is going to be fine.”

Michael turned his head from Gavin to look at Caleb. Their doctor—no, nurse was what he preferred to call—wore a white button-up shirt and a ridiculously short skirt (for what reason he wore this, Michael had no idea, but it weirded him the hell out.), all splattered thick with blood. In his hand he held some organ that Michael couldn’t identify. Not too far away, on a table, was a man retrieved from the recently-conquered village. For the past hour, Michael had been sitting by Gavin’s bed listening to the now-dead man’s screams of agony and pleas for mercy.

“I don’t know if I trust you looking like that to take care of Gavin,” he pointed out.

Caleb rolled his eyes. He carelessly tossed the organ on a counter and wiped his hands on his skirt. It didn’t do much for his hands, but there was a bit less white on his clothing. “Oh please, I didn’t operate on him looking like this. Besides, if I let one of Ryan’s precious little soldiers die on my watch, there will be hell to pay for it.”

“Good. He better live.”

“Oh calm down. Even without him, five of you is plenty with how insanely strong you all are. Plus I’ll get to slice him up if he dies.” Caleb giggled at the thought.

Michael blanched and quickly looked away before Caleb could see the look on his face. Sure, he had killed probably hundreds of people as Mogar. He also enjoyed it: the physical exertion of tearing a person’s limbs from their body or sinking his claws and teeth deep into their skin, tear their throat out. But this was Gavin—his partner for a long time, and… and…

And his friend.

Oh.

Until now, Michael hadn’t realized that he thought of the eccentric young man, dressed up with the same creeper skin Geoff fixed up for him when they were children. He remembered well how Gavin had idiotically went hunting for creepers, risking his life and limbs, so he could convince Geoff to enchant buckets to be unmeltable. All to impress Michael.

And now here Gavin was, in a comatose state, because he charged after a kid for hurting Michael.

“I—idiot,” he muttered, touching Gavin’s pale cheek to reassure himself it was still warm. Michael felt tears sting his eyes and he blinked them away. Stupid Gavin, making him worry and want to cry. Stupid Gavin, making Michael turn into a huge baby over him. Stupid Gavin, stupid Gavin…

Yet even though in his mind he berated Gavin, Michael couldn’t help but feel great respect and adoration for his… for his friend.

The door opened suddenly, startling Michael to his feet. He spun around to see Ryan striding n. “Still here, Michael? Caleb assured me Gavin would heal just fine, so it isn’t necessary for you to burden yourself with watching him,” he said, placing a hand on Michael’s shoulder when he reached him.

Michael pulled his bear hoodie over his head, shrugging. “I don’t know. Just worried about him, I guess,” he said. He looked at Gavin, so he didn’t see the shadow cross over Ryan’s face. When he looked back to the king, the shadow had passed. “What can I do for you, my lord?”

Ryan kept a careful smile on his lips. “Go make sure Edgar is alright for me,” he said.

“Right. Yes sir.” Michael nodded and turned to go.

Gavin groaned and stirred.

The sound made Michael freeze. In a flash he was at Gavin’s bedside. “Gavin? Are you awake?” He felt a lump in his troat and his heart raced.

Gavin’s eyes cracked open. “Michael…?”

Michael was practically leaning down on top of Gavin. “Yes, yes, of course it’s me, idiot,” he said, but his heart wasn’t in the insult.

“Michael!” Gavin sat up abruptly, and immediately winced. “Ow, my stomach.”

He thought he would cry with relief that Gavin was finally awake, but he kept himself carefully in check. No way he’d let anyone see him in that state. “Well duh, you got stabbed in the stomach only like five days ago, dumbass,” he said pushing Gavin back down to lie on the bed.

Gavin let himself lay back, one hand over his stomach. “You’re alive,” he told Michael in amazement.

Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “Stupid, of course I’m alive. Do you really think anyone can take down the great Mogar?” He attempted an arrogant grin, but it was still only half-hearted.

“But I saw…” Gavin squeezed his eyes shut, remembering back to the village invasion. Michael getting cut. Michael getting torn apart—but no, that wasn’t Michael. Just someone who looked like him.

He opened his eyes again and for the first time noticed Ryan also in the room. Gavin was shocked to see a coldness in his eyes that was never there when looking at any of the lads. He attempted a sheepish grin. “Sorry, sir. I wasn’t much help the last few days,” he said.

Then just like that, the coldness was gone and Ryan softened his expression. “Of course it’s alright, Gavin. I can’t be mad at you for being stabbed, now can I?” He looked at Michael. “I gave you an order, didn’t I?” Gavin could have sworn there was a hard edge to Ryan’s voice. He sounded, well, dangerous. While he knew Ryan was actually a dangerous person, Gavin had never actually felt endangered by their lord as he did now.

Michael jumped, but didn’t seem to notice the way Ryan was acting. “Right, sorry, I’ll get right on it, sir,” he said and hurried from the room.

Ryan turned back to Gavin, once again his eyes soft and his lips in a kind, gentle smile. “I hope you feel well. You’ve been out for quite a while. Luckily Caleb took care of you,” he said.

Gavin looked past Ryan to where Caleb was once again hovering over the corpse. Caleb was carefully removing the eyes, a look of contentment on his face. Gavin had a flash of remembrance of the sight of Michael—no, the boy—being torn apart. But it could have very well been Michael, if things were a little different. And that dead man in the nearby bed… As much as he tried to block out the image, Gavin kept seeing Geoff in lace of the stranger, sliced open and eyes torn out.

He forced his eyes shut. “Yeah. Lucky me,” he replied in a pained voice.

Ryan caressed the side of Gavin’s face, and he automatically looked up at the king. “I’m glad you are alive and well,” he said.

Even though now Ryan’s expression was caring, Gavin couldn’t get the memory of the cold, dead eyes looking right at him, or the hard, razor-sharp edge in his voice directed at Michael. Gavin swallowed a lump in his throat. “Thank you, my lord,” he said in a weak voice.

“Are you alright, Gavin? You look paler than normal.”

Gavin forced himself to nod. “Yes. I’m just… tired,” he lied.

Ryan nodded understandingly, patting Gavin’s arm. “Of course. Rest well, Gavin,” he said and left, leaving Gavin to feel unsettled and imagine the many people he killed, but instead they looked like his adoptive, mad family.

He turned his head from Caleb so he wouldn’t see Gavin cry.


	3. Chapter 3

It was good to finally be up on his feet again. For several weeks, Gavin had been bedridden, until Caleb eventually decided that he was completely healed with little to no complications. They were the implied orders from King Ryan, Caleb told him. There was no way that he could let any one of the six die on his watch, or face any kind of complication that might endanger them later on. Thus Gavin was forced to remain in the “healing room”, which also doubled as Caleb’s “examination and experimentation room”, much to his dismay. Every day Gavin had to lay still for hours at a time, inhaling the disgusting smells that permeated the air—a sickening mixture of blood, formaldehyde, burnt flesh, and various chemicals.

Then there was Caleb’s unhealthy obsession with Michael. He would go on for hours about the mysteries that must lie in his body, and if Caleb only had the chance to dissect it… Gavin shuddered to remember the dreaming look on Caleb’s face whenever he talked about Michael.

“Hey Gavin, look alive!” He was startled out of his reverie by Michael climbing out of the bushes.

“Oh right, sorry.” Since everyone in the village hadn’t completely surrendered and fully accepted the sovereignty of their new king, Ryan had them patrolling the borders just in case someone tried to run for help. More recently, Ryan had some recruits on watch, but occasionally one or two of his closer servants were put on the lookout duty. Right now Michael and Gavin were searching together.

Michael stood in front of Gavin, fists on his hips. “You going to be alright out here Gavin? You don’t look so good.”

Gavin looked away from Michael. No, he didn’t think that he would be alright, but he wasn’t about to tell his partner that. He hoped that no villagers would try to escape; he didn’t think he would be able to handle it, not yet. Not with visions of the others in place of his would-be victims swirling through his head.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

With a nod, Michael went back to patrolling. Gavin couldn’t help but watch the way his friend prowled, lifting each foot and placing it with care, making no sound. Like a creature on the hunt. His hood was pulled over his head, but if Gavin didn’t know that doing so would get him killed, he probably would laugh at how cute Michael’s costume looked on such a dangerous person.

To Gavin, Michael was a precious person. The milk to his cream—and his butter, cereal, cake, hot chocolate… well, his milk to everything that needed milk to make it complete. That was what Michael was to him. Unfortunately, although he called Michael his friend, Michael had never returned the favor. Gavin was always just a partner to him. Whatever though. Regardless of what Michael thought of him, Gavin still cared deeply about Michael.

And so he couldn’t get the image of Michael being torn apart out of his head. He knew that it hadn’t been Michael (obviously, since his friend was still right there), but he just couldn’t shake the odd feeling of loss, and subsequent relief he felt every time he saw Michael.

He was so distracted with his thoughts he didn’t see the fighter until it was too late.

The iron sword flashed in the sunlight as it swung at him. Gavin looked up as if moving through syrup, watching dumbly as the weapon fell down on him. His mind stopped working; he blanked. Gavin would never move fast enough to block or dodge the sword.

“GAVIIIN!”

Suddenly Michael was there, slashing with a fury Gavin hadn’t ever seen before. He tore the sword arm from the attacker and in the very next swing decapitated him amidst a blood-chilling scream. The body dropped to the ground with a spray of blood, so close to Gavin that he felt the warm droplets like red rain on his face.

Michael looked over at Gavin, relief written all over his face. Blood dripped from his curly hair. To Gavin it looked disturbingly alluring.

“Thanks Michael,” he found himself saying lamely in a small voice.

Michael tossed the truncated arm carelessly to the ground by the fallen iron sword. “No problem. It’d suck to have to be stuck back in that bed again right after getting back on your feet.” He gave Gavin a large grin, and he watched as Michael’s teeth shrank from Mogar’s sharp set to normal human teeth. Gavin suppressed a shiver—Michael’s transformations were always eerie, no matter how much he had seen them.

He looked over Michael’s face, covered in blood, felt the stickiness on his own face, and felt disgusted that he felt attracted by it all. What if it had been Michael’s blood? Or Ray’s? Geoff’s, Jacks? Or even Ryan’s? He hated himself to think that he would take pleasure in wearing their blood.

He wanted out.

————

“I can’t do this anymore. I want out.”

“Huh?”

Gavin blinked in surprise at his friend. He and Ray were hanging out at the table in the huge banquet-sized dining room, though since there was only seven on them and a few additional servants that Ryan had scurrying around, he wasn’t sure why such a large room was necessary. Ray was sitting in the chair, his head rested on his folded arms with a miserable look on his face as Gavin perched on the table next to him. Yet it wasn’t that which surprised him, although for Ray it was an unusual expression to wear. What surprised him most was that Ray echoed out loud exactly what Gavin had been mulling over just then, without any kind of prompting.

Ray refused to look up at Gavin, instead gazing mournfully at some spot on the opposite wall. “It’s just… when I was patrolling, shooting down those villagers, there was just no pleasure in it. They’re beaten down, Gavin. They just wanted out. No fighting. They couldn’t even put up any kind of a fight—they wouldn’t even if I gave them the chance to.” Finally he looked up beseechingly at Gavin. “Remember how Ryan told us to always kill first, or they’d kill us? Like how it was when we were out on the streets?”

Gavin nodded at this. Of course he remembered, though at the same time he hadn’t cared much either way. He was just delighted to have someone be proud of him for once. With Ryan, he had felt important—even now, he still felt that way.

“I feel like we’re killing for no real reason. We already won. Now there are… kids like us, like how we were I mean. Except we’re the ones who made them like that.” Ray shrugged, looking away again. “I don’t know, it just sounds stupid probably.”

“No, no, I agree with you.”

Ray’s head jerked back up to look at him. “You do?” he asked in amazement.

Gavin nodded, thinking back to the cold look Ryan had given him as he lay in the healing room bed. As if Ryan didn’t actually care for him as a person, just that all his servants behaved like proper little fighters. Perhaps Ryan’s heart was a little more cruel and manipulative than they’d thought.

“Yes, let’s get out as soon as we can,” he told Ray.

The door at the far end of the room opened and Michael came in. Ray jumped to his feet, startled by the entrance, as Michael came over to them with a small pleasant smile on his face.

“Hey lads, what are you doing in here?” he asked them, shooting Ray a puzzled look, who was acting much like a skittish child caught doing something wrong.

Gavin returned the smile. He was sure that Michael would understand their apprehension over Ryan. He would make him understand. It was just that he couldn’t stand the thought of any of them being manipulated, Michael most of all. “We were talking about—.”

Ray cut across him. “—about the rose garden that I’m planning to make on the grounds. Want to scope it out with us?”

Michael frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. For a moment, he seemed suspicious of Ray. Then the moment passed and he chuckled. “You mean go check out a bunch of dirt with you guys? Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll pass.”

Ray shrugged, grabbing Gavin’s arm and tugging him toward the door. “Suit yourself. Come on, Gavin.”

After Ray dragged him from the dining hall all the way out the castle doors, Gavin managed to free his arm from Ray’s steel grip. “What gives, Ray? Why did you stop me from telling Michael about leaving this place? He should know!” he protested.

“He’s one of the closest ones to Ryan. He’d rat us out to the king in a heartbeat. You think Ryan would just let us walk out of the castle, no problem?” Ray replied, leaning his back against the obsidian wall.

Gavin frowned. “Michael’s my friend! We could make him understand!”

Ray raised an eyebrow. “Your friend? I’ve never heard Michael say anything like that. Just that you were his partner, but never a friend.”

At that, Gavin didn’t know what to say. It was true, and he knew it. When he didn’t speak, Ray continued, “You know that he’s also Mogar, the king’s little killer pet. He actually enjoys ripping people apart for the sake of ripping them apart. He’d probably do it with or without king Ryan.” He wrinkled his nose as he spoke of Mogar.

With a resigned sigh, Gavin looked away from Ray. “Fine. I won’t say a word to Michael about it,” he promised.

Ray grinned, pleased that Gavin would go along with him. “Awesome. So… tonight we’ll get out?”

Gavin looked up in alarm. “Tonight?” That was so soon, too soon.

“Well of course tonight. I don’t want to have to kill another innocent villager. We need to get out, get to the closest free village, get a resistance started up.” Ray was nearly breathless with excitement by the time he finished, and he paused to catch his breath. “It has to be tonight.”

And Gavin realized after tonight, his precious friend would be his enemy.

————

Michael couldn’t sleep.

He didn’t know why, but for hours he had been lying in bed, wide awake, unable to fall asleep. It frustrated him because early the next morning he would be patrolling the village, like he had been that day with Gavin. When Gavin nearly got himself killed, again.

It was probably even Gavin’s fault that Michael now couldn’t sleep. Idiot. What was up with him lately? It was like he was not altogether there. Like, he saw his would-be victims and… choked.

Bastard. Idiot bastard, making Michael worry for him. Took all the fun out of killing if he had to worry about his… his… his friend dying.

Friend. The word was still so new to Michael. It made his cheeks grow hot. In a good way. Was this what Gavin felt every time he called Michael his friend, even though the sentiment was never returned? Michael resolved to call Gavin his friend out loud sometime. It would definitely surprise the hell out of Gavin. Thinking about the shocked expression on his face, followed by those silly squeals of delight that were so characteristic of Gavin, made Michael smile.

Crash!

Michael jolted out of bed to his feet before what he heard even registered in his mind. The crashing sound of metal falling to the ground, like metal swords. Geoff was the only one who would be out of bed, and he was out at the village right now. There was no one else who would be walking around with weapons at this time of night.

An intruder.

He peeled his upper lip back in a snarl, creeping forward. The cold stone floor chilled his bare feet as he crept toward his closed bedroom door. His fingers had grown into sharp claws by the time he reached the door and silently pressed his ear to it.

There were muffled voices arguing in the hall. Quiet enough that he couldn’t make out individual words, but loud enough that Michael could tell that one was admonishing the other—probably for dropping whatever weapons they had. He had heard enough.

In one quick movement, he ripped the door open and tackled the nearest one to him. They went sprawling, and Michael pinned the intruder to the ground, his hand poised to kill.

“Michael! Michael, no!” his victim squealed in fear.

“Gavin?” Michael’s voice came out in a hiss. “What the fuck are you doing?”

He felt cold steel press against his throat. A sword. “Let him up, Michael.” It was Ray’s voice.

Michael stiffened, but he made no moves to get off of Gavin. He kept his hand up, ready to strike either Gavin or Ray, if he had the chance. “What’s going on here?” he demanded.

As his angry gaze bored into Gavin’s eyes, Ray explained, “We’re leaving. We don’t want to do this anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Michael, I’m sorry.”

“Shut up Gavin,” he snapped. “What’s to stop me from shouting for king Ryan right now?”

Ray pressed the sword a little harder against his neck. “If you do, I’ll cut off your head and we’ll still be gone before he can get out here.”

“Ray, you can’t!”

“Shut up, Gavin.” Michael gritted his teeth. Seems like he had no choice. His stomach churned with a sense of betrayal. He couldn’t believe he had called them both his partners, and had thought of Gavin as a friend. “Fine, traitors. I’ll let you run.”

Both he and Gavin got to their feet, Ray still holding the sword to Michael’s neck. Gavin gathered up the bunch of swords that they were apparently stealing from the armory. He couldn’t see Ray, but Gavin was no longer wearing his creeper skin, just a simple black outfit. For a minute, Michael could still feel the steel as Ray pressed it still closer, and he could feel its bite on his skin. It appeared that Ray would be killing him anyway.

Gavin’s eyes widened at Ray. “No, Ray! You promised you wouldn’t!”

“Gavin, shut up! I don’t need help from a traitor,” he growled. Gavin flinched, but at least Ray finally removed the weapon.

Michael stepped back and turned to glare at them both with as much hate as he could. Like Gavin, Ray also hadn’t worn his trademark tuxedo in favor of simple all-black clothes, though it wasn’t much of a change, except less dressy. He carried a bag like Gavin, except instead of swords he held bows and arrows. Each had an additional bag, presumably filled with supplies.

“Looks like you two are ready to lead an army,” Michael spat out. He wasn’t stupid. The two of them weren’t going to simply leave, and that would be the end of it. They were planning to defy their lord.

Gavin gazed mournfully over at him. “Michael… I’m sorry.” When Michael refused to answer, Gavin shuffled closer. “Michael, come with us.”

This request shocked Michael, and apparently Ray as well. “What?” Michael and Ray exclaimed simultaneously.

Gavin looked at Michael with such earnest that he was taken aback by it. “Ryan is manipulating all of us. He isn’t so kind so even us servants as he wants us to think. This is wrong, Michael. And…” He hesitated then placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “And you’re too much of a precious friend to me to let you get used like that.”

At first, Michael was too stunned to even shrug off Gavin’s hand. He felt like there was a war waging through his entire body. Gavin’s touch set his skin on fire, and he found that he liked it, but at the same time he itched to slap the offending hand away, because he knew that it was a traitor’s touch. But the way Gavin looked at him made Michael unable to believe that he was just lying about the way Ryan was. Yet…

This was Ryan that Gavin was talking about. The one who raised him, who always treated him so kindly when all everyone else saw was a monster in Michael. Ryan was as precious to Michael as Gavin just claimed Michael was to him.

“No.” Finally Michael shrugged off Gavin, backing away quickly. “Leave. Get out.”

Gavin looked stricken by his refusal. “But Michael…”

“Leave! Now!”

Michael refused to watch as his friend—no, the traitor—and Ray retreated out of the castle.


	4. Chapter 4

For days after Gavin and Ray left, Michael was tormented by a mixture of strong emotions. Regret that he let them get away unscathed, regret that he didn’t go with them, anger at their betrayal, anger at his own loyalty. Above it all though, Michael missed Gavin terribly.

Ryan asked about Gavin and Ray’s disappearance, of course. None of the others knew anything, and Michael pretended that he didn’t either. Then the guilt joined the terrible storm in Michael’s heart, guilt of lying to his lord.

An entire month passed torturously slow.

Report began to come to the castle. King Ryan’s new recruits from the village were being taken out, some even captured, by some unknown group. Unrest resurfaced in the beaten-down village. There was a mysterious rebellion afoot, and it stirred the hearts of the people.

Ryan was beside himself in anger. “There’ll be chaos if we don’t find and crush this group of rebels,” he growled.

Michael felt sick. He instinctively knew that Gavin and Ray were a part of this. And something in Ryan’s fury told Michael that his lord knew it too. Part of him feared for his king, and the rest feared for Gavin’s life. Even now, Michael couldn’t shake the feeling that Gavin was a precious friend of his.

Soon, Ryan began to shut himself away in his room, doing god knows what for hours at a time. No doubt it was some magic thing. Magic wasn’t really Michael’s thing, and so he didn’t understand what possible use that Ryan could find for it. Geoff assured him that whatever it was that Ryan was doing, it would help them put down the rebels.

What could magic do for them, if Ryan was just locking himself up in his room all the time? It made Michael curious. So one day he snuck over to Ryan’s room, stopping at the door. Pressing his ear to the wood, he listened hard for any sound that he could detect. There was some soft muttering, then silence. And more silence. The silence continued to stretch on until Michael felt like he had actually gone deaf standing outside at his lord’s door.

The door swung open.

“Argh!” Michael jumped back, startled by Ryan opening his door so suddenly. Ryan gave him a small amused smile.

“Spying on me, are you Michael?” he asked.

Even though the king’s tone was teasing, Michael felt nervous. He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m sorry, my lord. I was just wondering how your magic would help us beat the rebels,” he explained.

He fully expected to be turned away and reprimanded at the very least. To his surprise, Ryan chuckled. “Why didn’t you just ask me? I’ll show you exactly what I’m doing,” he replied.

“R—really?” Michael hadn’t actually expected Ryan to let him in on whatever ritual he was performing, with how secretive the older man had been .

Ryan nodded. “Of course,” he said softly, and stepped back into the room, leaving the door ajar for Michael.

A bit hesitant now that he was actually allowed in on the secret, Michael cautiously sidled into the room, almost afraid that it was some kind of trap and he would explode upon setting foot into the king’s room. It would be a fitting punishment for Michael sneaking around nosing around into Ryan’s business. Fortunately, no such thing happened, but he was struck by the heavy smell of incense and the dimness of the place. The spacious room was lit only by candles, and most of it was hidden in the darkness. Amidst the soft flickering light was an intricate geometric pattern, and in the very middle of it all was a simple silver pillar topped with a bowl of water.

Michael frowned, furrowing his eyebrows at the sight, somewhat bemused at what he was beholding. “A bird bath?” was all he managed to ask, eyes locked onto the object in question. Already he was regretting coming in here; the secret was much too mundane and the atmosphere too heavy, too sinister, to be worth it. Every one of his senses reeled to be in the room, though there was nothing inherently malicious about any of the individual things. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

At his question, Ryan laughed. “No, don’t be silly, Michael. It’s no bird bath. It’s a scrying bowl.”

‘Oh right, I’m the silly one,’ he wanted to retort, but something made him keep his mouth shut and wait for the other to elaborate.

“You see, this will help me predict what Ray and Gavin’s plans are. Where they’ll be if things go right. Difficult magic to work, but I can manage if I spend enough time with it,” Ryan told him.

Michael’s frown deepened with the explanation. Now he felt more confused than ever, and more than a little skeptical. “So you can see the future?” he asked, incredulity plain in his voice. If his king could do that, then how was it possible that Ray and Gavin managed to leave the castle to start this rebellion in the first place? Ryan should have been able to cut it off before the rebellion even began.

Ryan shook his head with a heavy sigh. “No, not exactly. Unfortunately, the future is always changing, and there are several ways that one action can end in. Not to mention that it takes too much time, energy, and concentration to do regularly enough to accurately predict the future.” He sighed again, bracing his hands on the edges of the scrying bowl, peering into the liquid it contained—water probably, but it was hard to tell in the candlelight. “But with straightforward lads like Gavin and Ray, it’s a bit easier to guess what they’ll do. We need this edge on them.”

All of a sudden, it seemed like the mad king was much older than he actually was. Michael’s heart ached to see his lord like this, hunched over and obviously exhausted. Mentally, he berated himself for ever questioning his loyalty to king Ryan. Those traitors. Gavin and Ray. They were responsible for how weary Ryan was now. And Michael would take them down, if that was what Ryan wished.

“I’ll crush this rebellion, King,” Michael vowed vehemently, gritting his teeth.

He could see Ryan smile softly as he looked down into the bowl. “I know, my precious Mogar.” There was a pause, then he asked, “Would you go check on Edgar for me while I do this, Michael?”

Michael gave a slight bow. “Of course, my lord,” he said, quickly retreating from the room.

It was a relief to be out of the heavily incensed room, out in the tall drafty halls of the castle. He took his time walking to the domain of the king’s beloved pet to enjoy the cool air, even dead as it was on the inside, not in much of a hurry. In any case, Michael wasn’t very excited to see Edgar.

He made his way through the maze of halls that Ryan insisted on having built, however superfluous they were, and too soon began the descent down the slick winding stairs that led beneath the castle. Michael kept one hand on the wall, stepping carefully. It was a long way to fall, and the staircase lacked a handrail or anything of the kind.

The stairs wound deep underground beneath the castle, to the spacious dank basement that served as a home to the king’s pet.

Edgar had been raised by the king since he was just a calf, kept in dark damp places by some inconceivable design of Ryan’s. Ryan had selected him for his apparent violent nature at birth, and then raised him to further the bull’s bloodlust. Yet as violent as Edgar was toward everyone, including the six closest to the king, Edgar had never shown any inclination to ever harm Ryan himself. The man could be alone in Edgar’s enclosure—a death sentence for any other man—yet the bull was gentle, even playful with him.

For anyone but Ryan, walking inside his territory meant death.

Michael finally stepped down into the basement and strode over to the great gate that kept everyone out and, more importantly, Edgar in. Immediately, the bull fixed his fierce eyes upon Michael. As he got closer to the gates, Edgar charged.

The man hesitated, watching the bull wearily as Edgar crashed into the gate. It bent under the force of the impact, but thankfully held strong. As it continued to hold under subsequent assaults, Michael breathed out a slow, shaky breath of relief. Although Edgar had never been known to escape any enclosure that his master approved, Michael couldn’t shake the fear that one day he would manage it.

He kept some distance between himself and the edge of Edgar’s enclosure from some subconscious fear that his proximity to Edgar might somehow transfer over whatever extra strength the bull needed to break free and gore him. Ryan’s pet always seemed to show extra aggression toward Michael. He thought it might have something to do with his ability to become Mogar. As if somehow the bloodlust that ruled both beings also set the two dead against one another.

Why could he become Mogar though? No, that was incorrect. He didn’t become Mogar. Michael was Mogar, set off by anger and desire for violence, by the love of tearing flesh apart, of splintering bones, of splattering blood. Mogar was a monster. Michael was a monster.

But it was also how he met Ryan.

Michael sighed, closing his eyes. The day he discovered Mogar, hidden inside of him, was simultaneously the best and worst day of his life.

He was only six years old. There was some fight with his parents, although now Michael couldn’t remember what it was about. Probably something stupid, like them refusing to let him eat candy until he made himself sick. No doubt it was normal parenting things. But being the hot-tempered child that he was, Michael began to throw a tantrum.

Something was off that particular time though. He shuddered to remember the anger and frustration growing into a terrifying fury. His fingers itched as he recalled how they grew and shaped into razor-sharp claws. His teeth became pointed, and no doubt his eyes had clouded with red. The normal petty anger of a child became the horrific murderous fury of a monster.

His memory blacked out from there. The next thing Michael remembered was kneeling by the mangled bodies of his parents; he covered head to toe in blood. In their blood. His six year old self, snapped back to his senses after his rage was spent, was overwhelmed by the horror of seeing his parents torn corpses from a monster, and that very monster washim.

Michael remembered screaming and bolting from the house. What a sight he must have made, tearing through the streets covered in blood. But he paid no mind to others, just kept running and running.

Until he ran right into another kid, that is.

Both he and the other boy fell backward, Michael sprawling on the ground. He stayed as he was, shivering and staring at the ground, unable to push himself to get up or even look at who he had just knocked over.

“Hey kid, why don’t you watch where you’re going?” another boy, other than the one Michael knocked over, growled at him.

“Now, now Geoff, look at him.” There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright kid? You’re a mess.”

Michael flinched and cautiously lifted his head, and that was the first time he saw Ryan. The would-be king’s face was soft and caring, a small consoling smile on his lips. His expression invited confidence, and Michael couldn’t help but trust him, stranger though he was.

And so he babbled on about what had just happened, how he had gotten angry and then… and then… He couldn’t remember, but then there was his parents and their bodies and the… the blood. Covering him. And the n Michael began to cry, rubbing hard at his bloody arms, feeling unclean inside and out. He was a monster.

Ryan put his arms around the boy, stilling his movements. “No, you’re no monster. You just need to learn to control yourself.”

Michael automatically clung to the other, sobbing into his chest. “H-how? I can’t, I can’t!”

“Yes, yes you can.” Ryan stroked Michael’s blood-matted hair, ignoring how his hand came away coated in still-wet blood. “I’ll help you, if you want.”

Michael looked up at the boy, still a child himself, with his widened eyes filled with wonder. How could anyone, least of all a stranger, offer to help someone who just admitted to being a monster? “Really? But what if I…?” His voice trailed off.

“I won’t let you. You won’t go wild unless you intend to, I promise that I won’t let you do anything otherwise,” Ryan told him solemnly, continuing to gently stroke Michael’s head.

That was how Michael was sort of adopted by Ryan and Geoff, two boys barely older than himself. From what Michael gathered, each of them were orphans in some way, with Ryan having plans of being a strong rule one day. Geoff was along for the ride, to help his friend achieve those dreams, and they stole and hunted to care for themselves. Michael learned to do each of these efficiently, and how to break the law when necessary without getting caught. And although the three never had much except for each other, and later Gavin, Ray, then much later Jack, Michael was happy with how things were.

Ryan made good on his promise not to let Michael lose control. As long as he was there, he was somehow able to tether the younger boy, to keep him sane.

Clang!

Edgar rammed the gate again. The sound brought Michael back to the present. He opened his eyes to see the violent animal preparing for yet another charge. They were nearly the same—enraged monsters that shouldn’t be allowed to exist. And without Ryan, neither Edgar nor Michael was likely to be alive.

He owed his life to the mad king. And Michael would gladly give it for Ryan. It was the least he could do for the man who gave him a second chance at living.

********

“Michael, King Ryan wants to see you.”

He looked up to Jack standing at his door, with that permanent scowl he always wore, but this time with a hint of envy. It piqued Michael’s curiosity. What could King Ryan want of him that made Jack actually jealous of him?

“Cool, where is he?” Michael asked, standing up.

Jack jerked his head in a ‘this way’ gesture. “Out on the grounds, follow me.”

The two went off, outside the castle to where Ryan stood with Geoff by the wrought-iron gates. Their king was dressed in his battle gear—chainmail and a diamond sword at his belt, his crown perched on his head as always. In addition to the armor and crown, Ryan wore a broad excited grin.

“You sent for me, my lord?” Michael inquired, looking his king up and down. Something stirred in his heart to see Ryan dressed for battle.

“It’s time, Michael.”

Something in Ryan’s tone made Michael shiver. Instinctively, he knew exactly what Ryan was talking about. “… Today?” His breath caught when Ryan nodded. Today.

“My lord, let me go with you. It’s dangerous with just the two of you,” Jack said, stepping forward. Geoff shot him a reproachful glare, and Michael figured that they had already argued over this.

Ryan waved him off. “There’s no need. I’m perfectly capable of defending myself. And anyway…” He shot Michael a grin. “… Mogar is unstoppable.”

Again, Michael shivered, feeling the excitement rise in his chest. He was determined not to prove Ryan wrong about him. He would be unstoppable.

“But, Ryan—,” Jack began to protest.

“Enough. Go check on Edgar, Jack,” Ryan cut him off with a look that said that it was not up for discussion.

For a minute, it appeared as if Jack would argue with the king anyway. With what was probably a great internal effort, Jack sighed heavily, and bowed. “Yes, my lord,” he forced through gritted teeth, and returned to the castle.

Geoff let out a slow sigh of relief. “Do be careful, my mad king,” he said, giving Ryan a look of genuine concern.

Ryan smiled, clapping the other man on the shoulder. “I’ll be fine, my old friend. Besides, those two are no match for us.”

And so they were off, just Michael and his beloved king. He felt honored that Ryan chose him over the others to accompany the king on such a task, to take care of the traitors. If he were the king, he would have gone with the strategic Geoff, or the controlled Jack, over Michael with his wild tendencies. True, Ray and Gavin probably didn’t stand a chance against Ryan and Michael, but they were still formidable foes. Especially with Ray’s specialty in stealthy bow attacks.

“They’re here,” Ryan hissed to Michael.

Twang!

As if summoned by Michael’s thoughts and Ryan’s quick warning, he heard the sound of an arrow being loosed. He jumped, but he wasn’t quick enough to completely dodge the arrow that embedded itself in his shoulder. He hissed in pain, but he forced himself to pull the arrow from his skin.

Ryan’s eyes were alert, searching, but he quickly locked onto a spot, as if he knew exactly where the foe would be. He nodded in the direction he was looking, and Michael realized that this was a result of the long hours the king spent scrying. Ryan knew where they were, and who exactly they were..

“Get him, Mogar.”

The command stirred the bloodlust in Michael. With a snarl, he charged forward in the direction that Ryan indicated, not doubting the accuracy of his king. Sure enough, he hit another body, and tackled the squealing man to the ground. The bow that he was holding was flung from his hands and Michael hit him.

“Michael, no!”

“Gavin,” he hissed, feeling his anger rise until he thought that he might lose control. But he thought about his king, and how Ryan was depending on him, and so with difficulty Michael reigned in his fury, focusing on the squirming man pinned beneath him.

How many times had they been like this? With Gavin underneath a Turning Michael, with Gavin squealing for mercy of him, with Michael poised to kill the other lad?

“Michael, please.” Gavin’s voice was desperate, knowing just as Michael did that this time would be the last they were in this position. “Please don’t kill me, Michael. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up, Gavin!” Michael snarled. “Sorry for what? You purposefully shot me with an arrow, you little traitor!”

Gavin flinched. “I know, but… I didn’t want it to be like this, Michael. My boy.”

He didn’t want to hear any of Gavin’s excuses. His clawed hands squeezed Gavin’s arms hard, the sharp ends digging into skin, drawing blood. Gavin let out a yelp of pain.

“Good job, Mogar.” Ryan returned, carrying a struggling Ray. He slammed the younger man into a tree, pressing his arm against his throat. “Now here we are, with the two traitors who incited a little rebellion. I’d commend you for a valiant effort, if it wasn’t destined to fall.”

Ray gritted his teeth, trying and failing to get away from the king. “You’ll fall, Ryan. The rebellion will continue to grow and succeed,” he forced out, despite half-suffocating from the arm at his neck.

Ryan frowned. “You still haven’t learned your place, have you X-Ray?”

He slammed his fist into Ray’s gut. Ray let out a yelp of pain, gasping for breath. “I’m not… X-Ray… anymore,” he managed to say.

“No? Well yes, I suppose you won’t be once you two traitors are dead.” Ryan looked over to Gavin, then back to Ray with a suddenly gentle smile. “But I’m not completely cruel. I’m willing to give my two precious servants a second chance.”

Michael watched as Ryan stroked Ray’s cheek, and Ray flinched at his touch. He felt a surge of jealousy that Ray got such attention, followed immediately by anger that Ray subsequently spurned it. Without thinking, he squeezed Gavin even harder, eliciting cries of pain from the man.

“Never. I hope you die! Ray spit in Ryan’s face.

“You fucker!” Michael was seeing red. How dare he, how dare he! He would kill the traitor for that! Every muscle in his body tensed, and he was about to spring.

“Michael…”

Ironically, Gavin’s voice brought Michael back to his senses. He remembered that he was to be holding him down, and that Ryan was counting on him to do so. Michael turned his head back to Gavin, intending to snarl at him, just as he heard a snap.

Both boys looked back to see Ryan drop Ray’s limp form, the neck broken. Ryan slapped his hands together. “Alright, that leaves just you now, Vav. What’ll it be?”

Michael and Gavin locked eyes. Say yes, Gavin, just say you’ll come back please, Michael found himself thinking. But Gavin shook his head, and it killed Michael inside to see. “I… I can’t. I won’t.” He looked up imploringly at Michael. “It’s wrong.”

Ryan let out a light sigh of regret. “Suit yourself. Kill him, Mogar.”

Michael didn’t move, didn’t look at his king, didn’t even breathe. This couldn’t be real. He never wanted it to come to this. In his heart, he knew that it eventually would but… But he wasn’t ready for it. Gavin, his friend, his first and only actual friend. Now Michael had to kill him.

“Michael, please don’t.”

“Shut up, Gavin!” he screamed. Hearing his voice made it so much harder. Gavin sounded so scared, and it was his fault, and all Michael wanted to do was protect his friend, his partner, his boy, his Team Nice Dynamite.

But he couldn’t.

Hot, angry tears sprung to Michael’s eyes. He refused to acknowledge that he was crying, letting them fall to the dirt by Gavin’s head. At least his back was to Ryan, and the king couldn’t see Michael in his moment of weakness.

Gavin’s eyes widened. He had never seen Michael cry before, especially not over him. It meant that Michael did actually care about him. Michael was his precious friend after all.

“Michael…” There was an inkling of hope in Gavin’s voice, along with wonder that Michael cared enough about him to cry.

Something inside Michael snapped at Gavin’s voice. No, it was too much, all too much. Too much to hear Gavin scared of him, to hear the hope in his voice. Too much to bear.

“I said, shut up!”

Mogar sunk his teeth into Gavin’s neck and tore out his throat.


	5. Chapter 5

Clang!

Gavin was dead.

Clang! Clang!

Mogar killed Gavin.

Clang!

He killed Gavin. Michael killed Gavin.

Clang!

Again and again Edgar charged at the gate. Two tons and still not enough to break through the excellent craftsmanship of the enclosure, fortunately. Or maybe unfortunately. Michael didn’t know which it was anymore.

Clang!

“Just fucking break through, you useless asshole!” Michael screamed out, stomping over until he was centimeters from the gate.

Edgar stopped charging at Michael’s desperate scream. He sensed something different about the man, and inexplicably ceased paying any mind to him. Michael might as well not have existed as Edgar paused, regarding him with a final look, and went about his enclosure as docile as everyday cattle.

“No, no!” Michael grabbed the bars and shook them. “Keep charging, you dumbass cow!”

It did nothing to scream at the bull. Now that Michael was actually counting on Edgar escaping and goring him, the creature no longer held any interest for him. The world hated Michael.

“Fuck!”

Michael sunk to the ground. This was hopeless. Not just Edgar, but his entire life at the moment. He couldn’t get into the killing anymore. All he could remember was how his teeth tore into Gavin’s throat. And no matter how many times he told himself that Gavin was just a traitor who deserved it, Michael couldn’t stop thinking of Gavin as his friend, even still. His precious friend whom he murdered in cold blood.

He just wanted to die. No, not to kill himself, that was too easy for a monster like him. Although he put himself in suicidal dangerous situations, it was somehow infinitely better than him just offing himself and being done with it. Thus, there was was, in Edgar’s basement, attempting to get the bull to charge him and break through the gates.

Even that was a failure though.

Maybe he could just go out, wait for enemies to find and take him down. No doubt there were plenty out there searching for his hide. Him and any of the others in service to the king. The rebellion was still going strong. Maybe he’d be spotted by a rebel, and then that’d be the end of him.

But no, that wouldn’t work. He was still Mogar, and unless the enemy in question was strong enough to take down a monster… No, that was an impossibility, there was no man alive that could take him down in the midst of his bloodlust.

That was why he was here with Edgar in the first place. The creature was the only one strong enough to possibly kill Michael, even if he Turned. At the very least, he might get a death sentence anyway if he happened to manage to kill the king’s precious pet. Either way, he’d be dead. But even the bloodthirsty bull refused to oblige him, and Michael couldn’t bring himself to throw open the door to the cage.

Slowly, Michael forced himself from the ground, leaning heavily against the bars for support. Obviously Edgar was… cowed. If he was in any state of mind, he would have laughed at his own wording, but as it was, no. It was hopeless. No point in remaining here any longer.

———————-

“Michael is acting strange, my king.”

Ryan nodded. “He is, isn’t he?”

Geoff drummed his fingers against the wooden table, agitated. “I saw him coming out of Edgar’s basement not too long ago, with a look on his face like…” His voice trailed away and he looked away from Ryan quickly.

The king frowned, giving the other man a sharp look. “Like what?” he demanded.

“Like…” He looked hesitant to answer, which was unlike Geoff. Whatever it was had him quite agitated. Ryan remained silent, and when he didn’t prompt for an answer, Geoff hurried through. “Like your mother before she… you know.”

Ryan sighed. “Yes, I know,” he said, standing up to pace around his room. “I wish it didn’t come to this.”

Geoff stood as well, his hands resting lightly on the table, watching Ryan with a worried look. “I won’t let him hurt you. I’ll kill him now even, if I have to,” he promised solemnly.

But the king shook his head. “No, not now. It would be unprovoked if you did it now, and it’d set a bad example for Jack and Caleb. They need to know that their king is fair, always,” he reasoned.

“But… But we know how it’s going to end,” Geoff pointed out.

Ryan nodded. “Yes, we do. But this is how things are going to be,” he told his servant in a quiet voice.

He found himself tracing the scar on the underside of his arm. It was a gift from his mother; a reminder that everyone betrayed you sooner or later. But that was fine. As he had learned before from his father, as long as he remained the stronger one, there was nothing to fear from the insubordinations of the weaker.

“…Ryan?”

Geoff’s voice brought him back to the present. He blinked at the other man, dropping his arms to his sides. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

There was such a genuine tone in Geoff’s voice as he spoke that Ryan couldn’t help but chuckle. “What are you apologizing for, Geoff? You’ve done nothing wrong to me, not in all these years,” he said.

Geoff’s eyes were cast down, at the scar that was on Ryan’s arm, and Ryan’s first instinct was to pull down his sleeve when he noticed, hide it away. But he forced himself to remain still. Even if it was hidden after all, Geoff knew it was there. He was the one present when Ryan got the injury, he was the one to fight alongside Ryan before the rampaging woman killed them both, and he was the one to tend to the wound with the little healing knowledge that the young boy possessed.

If Geoff betrayed him then there was truly no one to trust in the world.

“When he snaps, I won’t let him lay a single finger on you.” He didn’t elaborate on what his apology was for, but Ryan understood.

He smiled at his long-time friend. “I know, Geoff.”

———————-

“Jack, go retrieve Michael for me.” Ryan sat at his throne, back stiff and straight, his hands glued to the arm rests.

The man gave him a slight nod, although there was a hint of frustration in his face. “Yes, my liege,” he said, and retreated out of the throne room to do his bidding.

Geoff glanced at the king from his place at Ryan’s side. His lord’s face was set, determined. “This is it?” he asked.

Ryan didn’t look at him, but he nodded stiffly. “Yes. Hopefully, this is it.”

It didn’t take long for Jack to return, with a somber Michael in tow. The younger man had a grave look on his face, and Ryan was almost afraid that he would end up with a broken tool that he could neither use nor dispose of, if he were to maintain his reputation as a kind, yet fearsome ruler.

Jack retook his place at Ryan’s other side, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, as Michael gave Ryan a slight bow. “You called, my lord?”

Relax, Ryan, you need to relax, he told himself, doing his best to relax his muscles and lean back into the throne, yet he failed miserably. He shook his head slightly at himself, and went on with what he had intended to say anyway. “Hello, Michael. Just wanted to let you know that you didwonderfully in disposing of those traitors.”

At that, Michael flinched, confirming Ryan’s suspicions that the two had formed a rather close bond, despite his efforts to prevent that. “…Thanks, my lord.” It was almost hilarious how pained Michael sounded as he accepted the compliment.

There was a long pause. Ryan wanted to push Michael, see how long it took until he broke.

“Traitors like Ray and Gavin turned out to be,” he began slowly, “are useless.”

He watched Michael for his reaction. The younger man clenched his fists, and his jaw was set. “Yes,” he forced out with a tense nod. There it was—the nerve. The mad king smirked.

“But luckily I have my more loyal followers to take care of disposal of the trash.” Ryan let out a low chuckle.

That did it. Something in Michael snapped. Eyes flashing red, teeth bared and sharp, he charged. All he could think of was killing Ryan—killing that madman who made himself king, who manipulated them all, who was manipulating him now, who was responsible for Gavin being dead now. How dare he call Gavin trash! He would tear him limb from limb for that. Gavin was not trash. Gavin was brilliant, despite the mistakes he made. Gavin was his friend.

Cold steel touched his throat. He froze.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mogar.” Ryan stood, approaching the man who had just charged with the intent to kill. Geoff and Jack each had their swords at his neck. The former had a fierce look in his eyes, and a cold hatred for Michael written all over his face. The latter’s expression was level, but there was a slight excitement that twisted up the corners of his mouth. At the slightest movement from Michael, their swords would decapitate him instantly.

He tensed up as his king approached him, not daring to move, not with the weapons threatening him. There was a small teasing smile on Ryan’s lips—it infuriated him to see. Here, in the throne room, the king was in control, and everyone present knew it.

“You were my favorite, you know. So strong, so willing to tear people apart. Even if it was your friend. Correct?”

The words stung. Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “N—no…” It was a lie though. He couldn’t forget how much he enjoyed the exertion of ripping a body apart, of sinking his teeth and claws into a living person, of drawing warm blood and sweet screams of pain from them. But when it was Gavin… how had that been any different? Michael was Mogar. Michael was a monster.

A cold hand touched his cheek, startling him into opening his eyes. Right before him was Ryan, leaned close, so that his face filled Michael’s field of vision. And his bright blue eyes were gentle as always, inescapable. All he wanted to do was lean into the comforting touch, resubmit himself to his king as he had done before.

“Goodbye, Michael.”

A wave of Ryan’s hand, and Michael’s head rolled off on the slick obsidian floors.


End file.
